


Moniker

by WriterWithNoName1



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Cutesy, Domestic, Feels, Fluff, Fluffyfest, Happy Gay Farmers, M/M, Nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWithNoName1/pseuds/WriterWithNoName1
Summary: Esca tries out several different nicknames for Marcus.Turns out the one he likes best, is the simplest.





	Moniker

“Thank you, my dear.”

Marcus pauses, only a small interruption of his sweeping, before he resumes with an embarrassed cough. His colour rises on his face a little, he tries not to look up from his work.

Esca wrinkles his nose. _No_. He thinks. _I sound like Old Aquila talking to his wife._

Marcus is dear to him indeed, but this one doesn’t suit him. It feels clumsy on his tongue.

Esca will have to think of something else.

\---

“Tired, Handsome?”

Marcus opens a sleepy eye. He smirks a little, his skin illuminated softly by a burning lamp nearby.

“Are you just now noticing my good looks? I’m offended.”

Esca snorts. _Better_. He decides. _But still not quite right._

“I’m humouring you. Why do you think I prefer to have you in the dark? Your face is off putting.”

Marcus kicks him, playfully, and they tussle.

\---

“Take a cloak, my wolf, it’s frigid out today.”

Marcus looks bewildered, stopping before he leaves their round house to go tend the mares. Some will have their foals soon.

“…I think you might be getting me confused with Cub.” He says, dryly, before departing.

Esca groans. _Stupid idea._ He kicks himself. _What was I thinking, I need to stop comparing Marcus to fluffy woodland creatures._

\---

The next time it goes horribly wrong. He whispers the name to Marcus when they are being intimate and is banished from their bed.

Grumbling, he settles down on the floor. Cub condoles him with a warm, wet lick to the face.

 _Well._ He muses. _I shall never call Marcus ‘Centurion’ again._

\---

Esca brushes his hands through Marcus’ hair, pushing the strands away from his forehead.

Marcus smiles, his eyes shine with affection.

Esca leans forward, he dusts Marcus’ brow with his lips. Kissing is one Roman custom he has quite grown fond of.

"My Marcus."

Marcus nuzzles Esca's curls, inhaling the scent of him. "Yes." he whispers. "Yes I am."

 _Finally_. Esca lets out a breath of relief. _I got it right._


End file.
